The Dragon in the Sword (19 page)

There was laughter in the hall.

“The attempt failed, madam.”

“I did not murder Prince Flamadin. Prince Flamadin was exiled because he attempted to murder me. The whole world knows that. Every one of the Six Realms knows that. Many thought I should have killed him. Many thought me too lenient. If this is Prince Flamadin returned from exile, then he is breaking the Law and should be placed under arrest.”

“Princess Sharadim,” I said. “You were too quick to judge me an imposter. Any normal response would have been for you to have assumed I was your brother returned…”

“My brother had his weaknesses, sir. But he was not evidently a madman!”

This drew further approving laughter from the crowd. But many were wavering.

“This will not do,” cried the old man in the crown of shells. “As Hereditary Master of the Rolls I must use my authority in this matter. All must be put to Law. Let everyone be given the proper opportunities to speak. One day is all it will take, I am sure, for everyone to be heard. And then, if everything is still in order, the coronation can commence. What do you say, your majesty? My lords and ladies? If the matter is to continue to the satisfaction of us all, let us call a Hearing on it. In this hall at mid-afternoon.”

Sharadim could not refuse and, as for us, it was better than we had hoped for. We agreed at once.

I cried: “Sharadim! Will you grant me an audience in private? You and three chosen companions. I and three of mine?”

She hesitated, looked over to one side of the hall as if in quest of some guidance. Then she nodded. “In the antechamber in half an hour,” she said. “But you cannot convince me, sir, that you are my exiled brother. Surely you did not think I would accept you as my own flesh and blood?”

“Then what am I, madam? A ghost?”

I watched as she and her guards left the hall in a billowing wave of silks and bright metal while the Master of the Rolls signed for us to accompany him through another side door and into a cool chamber, lit by a single large round window above. Once he had closed the door, he sighed. “Land Prince Ottro, I had feared you slain. And you also, Prince Flamadin. There have been uncomfortable rumours here and there. For me, your words today confirm what I suspected of that woman. Not one of the nobles who voted to make her Empress is the kind I’d willingly invite to my own house. Ambitious, self-serving, foolish fellows all, who believe themselves deserving of greater power. That must be what she offers them. Of course, other, more innocent people followed suit out of ordinary, if misguided, idealism. They see her as a kind of living goddess, a personification of all their highest dreams and hopes. Her beauty, I suppose, has much to do with that. However, it did not need your melodramatic declarations of today to convince me that we are a whisker from complete tyranny. Already she speaks (albeit sweetly) of those in neighbouring realms who envy us our wealth, how we should protect ourselves more thoroughly…”

“Women are always underestimated by men,” said Alisaard, a note of satisfaction in her voice, “and this enables them sometimes to gather far more power to themselves than the men suspect. I have noticed this in my own studies of history, in my own travels about the realms.”

“Believe me, madam, I do not underestimate her,” said the Master of the Rolls, closing the door behind him and motioning us to be seated at a long table of polished oak. “You’ll remember, Prince Flamadin, that I warned you to be more cautious. But you would not believe in your sister’s schemes, her perfidy. She treated you like a favourite child, a wild son, rather than as a brother. And this enabled you to go scampering hither and yon in search of adventure while gradually she amassed more and more allies. Even then, you would have scarcely guessed the level of her evil had she not lost patience with you and ordered you to marry her, to consolidate her position. She assumed she could control you, or at least keep you a good distance from Court. Instead, you objected. You objected to her ambitions, her methods, her very philosophy. She tried to persuade you, I know. Then what happened?”

“She tried to kill me.”

“And put it about that you were the would-be murderer. That you were the one who stood against all our ideals and traditions. It is as if she is a reincarnation of Sheralinn, Queen of the Valadek, who regularly filled the moat out there with the blood of those she considered her enemies. I had guessed much of what you said today, but I had not realised she consciously sought to re-establish your dynasty as Empress of the Draachenheem. And you say she seeks the aid of Chaos? Chaos has not entered the Six Realms since the Sorcerers’ War, more than a thousand years ago. It is contained within the hub, in the Nightmare Realm. We swore we would never let it through again.”

“I have heard she is already in communication with the Archduke Balarizaaf of Chaos. She seeks his help in fulfilling her ambitions.”

“And what would an archduke’s price be, I wonder?” The Master of the Rolls was now even more concerned.

“A high one, I would guess,” said the Land Prince Ottro quietly. Deliberately, he folded his arms across his chest.

“Do such creatures really exist?” von Bek wished to know. “Or do you speak figuratively?”

“They exist,” said the Master of the Rolls gravely. “They exist in uncountable numbers. They seek to rule the multiverse and would use mankind’s folly and vice to that end. The Lords of Law, on the other hand, seek to use mankind’s idealism against Chaos, and to further their own schemes. Meanwhile the Cosmic Balance seeks to maintain equilibrium between the two. So much is commonly understood by those who recognise the existence of the multiverse and who travel, to some degree at least, between the realms.”

“Do you know of a legend concerning a sword?” von Bek asked. “And a creature said to slumber within it?”

“The Dragon in the Sword. Aye, of course I have heard of the Dragon Sword. It is a terrible weapon, by all accounts. Forged by Chaos, they say, to conquer Chaos. The Lords of Chaos would give much for that…”

“Could that be the Archduke Balarizaaf’s price?” von Bek suggested.

I was impressed by how swiftly he came to understand the logic by which we now lived.

“Indeed,” said the Master of the Rolls, his eyes widening, “it could be!”

“And that’s why she wants it. And that is why she was so glad to hear of it from us!” Alisaard clenched her ivory fists. “Oh, what dolts we were to tell her so much. We should have guessed that the person we really sought would not ask so many questions.”

“You communicated with her that successfully?” I was surprised.

“We told her all we knew.”

“And doubtless she had information of her own to add to yours,” Ottro said. “But surely you do not want the Dragon Sword in order to strike a bargain with Chaos?”

“We wanted it so we might rejoin our own people in a far realm. The Eldren have no truck with Chaos.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” asked the Master of the Rolls. “We must call a Hearing and we must try to prove Sharadim evil. But if we cannot, if the vote goes against us, we must consider other means of stopping her.”

“Surely our evidence will sway the Court?” said Alisaard.

Von Bek looked at her almost as if he envied her innocence. “I have but lately come from a world,” he said, “whose rulers are masters at turning lies to truth and making the truth seem the foulest lie. It’s easily done. We cannot expect to be believed simply because we know we do not lie.”

“The problem is,” added the Master of the Rolls, “that so many wish to believe Sharadim the paragon they all desire. Often people fight hardest of all to preserve a delusion. And they will frequently persecute those who challenge that delusion.”

We debated the matter further until the Master of the Rolls told us that the time had come for our meeting with Sharadim. Alisaard, von Bek, Land Prince Ottro and myself left the chamber and were escorted through the now deserted hall, still full of rose petals, and up a short flight of stairs into a series of rooms, some of which formed a kind of aviary, and finally to a circular room whose windows overlooked flower gardens and formal hedgerows and lawns, the inner courtyard of the palace. Here the Princess Sharadim sat. On her right was a long-jawed fellow with thin, unkempt light-coloured hair. He wore a surcoat of orange and a jerkin and breeches of yellow. On her left, leaning a little on her large chair, was a bulky, plump creature whose tiny eyes were never still and whose jaw moved slowly, like a goat chewing cud; he wore a mauve surcoat and dark blue underneath. The last was a youth of such decadent appearance I could hardly believe my eyes. He was almost a grotesque parody of the type, with thick wet lips, drooping eyelids, pale, spotted unhealthy skin, twitching muscles and fingers, and reddish curly hair. They announced themselves in a sulky, challenging manner. The first was Perichost of Risphert, Duke of Orrawh in the distant west; then Neterpino Sloch, Commander of the Befeel Host, and lastly Lord Pharl Asclett, Hereditary Prince of Skrenaw, but better known as Pharl of the Heavy Palm.

“I know of you all, gentlemen,” said Ottro with poorly disguised disgust as he introduced us. “And you know Prince Flamadin. This is his friend Count Ulric von Bek. Lastly Alisaard, Legion Commander of Gheestenheem.”

Sharadim had waited impatiently through all this. Now she rose from her chair and, pushing through her companions, walked straight to where I stood and looked up into my face. “You are an imposter. You can admit it here. You know, as do most of those who came with you, that I slew Prince Flamadin. True, his body is not corrupted and lies even now in my cellars. But I am lately come from where I left that body. It is still there! I know you for the one called the Champion, who those foolish women called to, mistaking myself for you. And I can guess what you are attempting by this essay into play-acting…”

“They hope to get to the sword before we do,” interrupted Pharl, scratching at his palm. “And make their own bargain with the Archduke.”

“Be quiet, Prince Pharl,” she said contemptuously. “Your imagination is notoriously poor. Not everyone holds identical ambitions to your own!” Ignoring his flushing features, she continued: “You either wish to oust me from the throne and rule in my place,” she said, “or you merely wish to bring my plans to an end. What? Do you all serve Law? Are you employed to give battle to Chaos and his allies? I know a little of your legend, Champion. Is that not your function?”

“I’ll allow you your speculations, madam, but you cannot expect me to confirm or deny them. I am not here to give you more power.”

“You are here to steal what I have, eh?”

“If you would give up your schemes, if you would refuse any further dealings with Chaos, if you would tell us what you know of the Dragon Sword, then you will receive no further conflict from me. If, as I suspect, you do not accept my terms, then I shall have to fight you, Princess Sharadim. And that fight would almost certainly bring about your own destruction…”

“Or yours,” she said calmly.

“I cannot be destroyed.”

“I had heard otherwise.” She laughed. “This disguise, this flesh you assume, that can be destroyed easily enough. What you love can be destroyed. What you admire can be corrupted. Come now, Champion, it is unworthy of either of us to mince words when we know exactly what we are dealing with!”

“I offered you a fair bargain, madam.”

“I have been offered better elsewhere.”

“The Lords of Chaos are notoriously treacherous. Their servants have a tendency to die in horrid circumstances…” I shrugged.

“Servant? I’m no servant of Chaos. I am in alliance with a certain party.”

“Balarizaaf,” I said. “He will cheat you, lady.”

“Or I him.” Her smile was all pride. I had seen many like her in the past. She believed herself cleverer than she was because it suited others to let her maintain that delusion.

“I speak sincerely, Princess Sharadim!” I was more urgent now. I should have felt less fearful if she had been a little more clever. “I am not your brother, it is true. But I have something of your brother’s soul mixed with mine. I know that you lack the strength to counter Chaos when it turns against you.”

“It will not turn against me, Sir Champion. Besides, my brother knew little of my dealings with Chaos. You have gathered that information from elsewhere.”

This set me back a little. If I was not tapping her brother’s memories, then I must be receiving my knowledge by some other means. Then it occurred to me that I was in some sort of telepathic communication with Princess Sharadim. That was how I had known what she meant to do. I found the thought unpleasant.

Flamadin and Sharadim had been twins, after all. I inhabited a body which was the exact counterpart of Flamadin’s. Therefore it might be possible that communication existed between us. And if that were so, Sharadim was as much party to my secrets as I was to hers.

What further disturbed me was knowing that a corpse identical to me was still stored in Sharadim’s cellars. I was not sure why I found this so distasteful, but it made me shudder. At the same time I had a sudden image: a wall of pale red crystal, and within the wall a sword which seemed to glow green and black and which at other times seemed to be on fire.

“How will you cut the crystal, Sharadim?” I said. “How will you tear the sword from its prison?”

She frowned. “You know more than I guessed. This is foolish. We should consider an alliance. They will all believe Flamadin restored. We shall marry. The folk of the Draachenheem will be overjoyed. What celebrations! Our power would increase immediately. We would share equally everything we gained!”

I turned away. “These are the self-same proposals you made to your brother. When he refused, you killed him. Now that I refuse will you kill me, Sharadim? On the spot? Here and now?”

She all but spat in my face. “Moment by moment I gain in strength. You shall be swallowed up in the storm I shall release. You shall be forgotten, Champion, and all who are with you. I shall rule the Six Realms and with my chosen companions shall indulge my every whim. That is what you refuse—immortality and an eternity of pleasure! What you have chosen is prolonged agony and certain death.”